My Electronic Stuff
My electronic stuff, my alien island
is beyond my knowledge upon foreign sand;
far, far away but within my reach
if I could land myself upon the beach.
My ship is drifting with the aimless tide
with a broken rudder from side to side,
and me the captain, an incompetent seaman,
adrift on the high seas with a dim-witted plan.
I could call the coast guard to help me
if the children there could hear my plea.
My electronic stuff is to them a piece of cake,
and to me the idiot, too confusing to navigate.
If only I could work my electronic stuff,
life to me would not be so tough.
I could do what I have to do
and sail smoothly upon the ocean blue.
